


Empty Places

by silentflux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: Sweet Charity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-21
Updated: 2008-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:05:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentflux/pseuds/silentflux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam makes Dean jealous...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Places

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Denyce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denyce/gifts).



_**FIC: Empty Places, Supernatural, Sam/Dean**_  
 **Title:** Empty Places  
 **Author:** Andrea  
 **Fandom:** Supernatural  
 **Rating:** FRAO  
 **Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
 **Warnings:** Slash, incest, the usual...  
 **Spoilers:** Up to AHBL parts 1  & 2  
 **Word Count:** 3161  
 **A/N:** Written for [](http://denyce.livejournal.com/profile)[**denyce**](http://denyce.livejournal.com/) one of my Sweet Charity winners and for [](http://community.livejournal.com/paliphrase/profile)[**paliphrase**](http://community.livejournal.com/paliphrase/) \- hope... So amazingly sorry about how late this is. I tried to angst it up as much as possible, and it went through two rewrites because I was unsatisfied with it and I refuse to post something that sucks... which is why it's so incredibly late. However, I hope that you enjoy it and that it's what you wanted :) The title was inspired by the Ancient Egyptian blessing - "May the Gods always stand between you and harm in all the empty places you must walk."

Thanks to my beta, [](http://onigaminanashi.livejournal.com/profile)[**onigaminanashi**](http://onigaminanashi.livejournal.com/). Any and all remaining mistakes are mine.

 **Summary:** Sam makes Dean jealous...

~ * ~ * ~

Dean didn't remember when it started. But he did remember how pissed off Sam was that night. God, his brother could never understand anything about him. It was like Sam had never learned anything about Dean the entire time they were growing up. He kept pushing and pushing and pushing until Dean finally broke and told him to go fuck himself. There was no way, absolutely no way, to break his deal. And Sam would have to live with it. That was the point. Sam would live. That was the bottom line for the elder Winchester - always.

He wasn't sure when Sam hadn't been first in his life. He vaguely remembered the slight jealousy of his little brother when his mom and dad had brought Sammy home from the hospital. But as soon as he'd held his brother for the first time, Dean had known. It was an all-encompassing, peaceful feeling to know that you would do absolutely anything for a person. Anything. Even as young as he was, Dean knew that, and it was reinforced over and over again by his father thereafter.

Protect Sammy. And the one time he almost failed had felt like something had eaten a chunk of his soul, shredding him to pieces in the process. Seeing the Shtriga hovering over his brother, enduring his father's glare, seeing how pale his brother was - they'd all settled into his bones like an ever present ache. That was when they were young. Dean had no words to express what had ripped through him as he'd watched Jake stab Sam in the back. The shock had washed over him, a sea of glass scraping, cutting into him, gutting him with surprise and pain and agony. The pure hatred that shot through him and the anger and the sudden pressing at his chest as he tried to move faster, tried to breathe to scream in denial, tried... Oh, God it had hurt. It still hurt him. And Dean lived every single second with that weight and pressure on his chest, breaking his breastbone to split him open. And his brother couldn't see it, didn't want to see it.

So, Dean was his glib self, ignoring his brother's concerned glances and exasperated sighs. He didn't help with Sammy's research into deals with demons and he felt like killing something every time his brother brought it up. He yelled when his temper broke, and not being able to stand the puppy dog look on his little brother's face, he'd leave. Leave to find someone who didn't care who he was or what he'd done and fucked them until the seething mass of self-loathing and recrimination and aching guilt and need lashed out with release that went out like the tide before snapping back with even more weight. He could never rid himself of it except for those times when he fucked or was fucked. Once he had bruises for days from the ropes and couldn't sit comfortable in his Impala from the toys she'd used. Another time he'd let a guy fuck him raw against the brick in an alley behind the cafe they'd eaten at. Each time he left, he ignored his brother's pleading eyes.

It took him a while to notice. He'd get back to the motel room, bleeding and jumpy, and the odd scents would hardly register. A cheap perfume lingering, the musk of sex that he thought his own. One morning, he noticed odd bruises that weren't there before on Sam's shoulders. Staring hard at the evidence and not truly believing, Dean had studied his brother's form. They were dressing and Sam's back was to him, all lithe muscle and smooth skin. Skin marred by bruises that shouldn't have been there. Not unless Dean had put them there.

With that thought, Dean lurched in place stumbling against the wall as he fought his gag reflex. God, what was wrong with him? That was his brother. Sam. Shaking his head in disgust, lips turned in a sneer aimed at himself, the elder Winchester's muscles tightened and he held himself cautiously all day, unwilling to let himself go unchecked for even a moment. There were lines. And he crossed a lot of them. Not this one. Not even mentally - he refused.

But once a seed was planted, it was hard to kill, and Dean did try. He tried not to notice how Sam always let his arm rest against Dean's shoulder when they stood next to each other or how fast dimples appeared when Sam was trying to hold back laughter or how his bangs always fell in such a way that made Dean's hands itch to touch and brush it out of his eyes, bury his fingers in the thickness of it and pull him down for a kiss, bruising and sweet.

I am so fucked, Dean took to muttering to himself whenever these thoughts spun out of control into bare skin and muscles and aches that one should never have for a sibling. He didn't know how long this went on, how long he'd wanted his brother, ached for it bone-deep until it was the first thing he thought about in the morning and the last thing he contemplated at night. It didn't matter how blissed out he was, how tired or how fucked out, it always circled back around - tendrils of need and want and the silky feeling of wrongness wrapping and winding around him - to Sam.

Biting his lip and hating the soreness in his body as he walked back to the hotel, Dean paused when he heard something unexpected from their room. Well, not necessarily unexpected, but he purposefully stayed out long hours to avoid running into this. His brother, with someone else. Sighing, he paused outside the door, a crack in the curtains shining light from the crappy motel room and he leaned forward. The agonizingly wonderful sickness flowed through him sticking and soft, sharp on the vulnerable recesses with his need as he blinked and the scene framed by curtain and windowsill swam into focus.

It slammed into him, like being beaned with a brick. The dizziness and the disorientation of seeing his brother - his baby brother - bending a smaller guy with dark hair over the desk in their crappy motel room, holding him down by the back of his neck, and slamming into that obviously willing and writhing body rushed over him and made the hunter stagger back. But he couldn't stop watching.

Sam's long fingers curled tightly into pale flesh, while the other man scrabbled at the wood, finally finding the edges of the desk and holding on so tight his knuckles whitened. His brother shoved into him so hard that only toes lightly touched the floor, each thrust lifting hips high, flexing of muscle under milky skin. Dean could almost feel the edges of the desk himself, his breathing quickening as he watched his brother lean down and mutter what must have been dirty little words in the shorter man's ear, wrenching a helpless moan from him.

"Oh, God," Dean breathed, not even realizing how quickly his breathing had become panting and his hand slid along the soft cotton of his t-shirt onto the rough denim of his jeans, pressing hard against the bulge of his cock and gasping at the harsh sensation of the zipper. But as his little brother's movements got more and more frantic and less controlled, Dean's body shook with the need until he gasped and came at the sound of Sam's jagged cry.

As his heart slowed and his body shivered in reaction, the stickiness of his dirty pants seeping into him, Dean's head shook vehemently as he backed up, tripping and falling from the curb onto pavement in the rapidity of his retreat. He couldn't - this was - no. It's just - no. And he ran to his car, pulling out the bottle of Jack he had stashed under the seat and taking a long, sloppy pull on the amber liquid, relishing the punishing burn all the way down his throat. Fuck, no.

~ * ~ * ~

They continued like this for several months, although Dean's conquests became fewer while Sam's grew. And Dean knew that his brother was getting laid more than he was because he more than often saw - or heard - the event. The elder Winchester also couldn't help but notice a pattern. Although Sam would occasionally pick up the odd blond girl, most often his little brother chose lithe brunet men that were well muscled. The similarities weren't lost on Dean, no matter how thick some of his girlfriends had accused him of being.

And every time he watched his brother with these men, it was Sam throwing them up against a wall, over the table, pinned to the bed, and fucking them blind. These nightly visions were the reason Dean had no real drive to pick anyone up. He was so drained - so completely and totally devoid of any true wish for anything more. He knew it was wrong, knew it was nothing that could ever come to anything. But that didn't stop the swirling, serrated need that exhausted and taunted him until the weariness was apparent in his eyes. Dean never saw anything in Sam's brown eyes because he no longer looked.

~ * ~ * ~

One night, Dean had left to go get his usual drinks instead of a fuck like his brother had assumed. When he'd come back to the motel, he stood outside, watching through a crack in the window curtains yet again, allowing himself to fully appreciate how completely controlled his brother was with these men. Holding them in place and forcing them to take anything he dished out. A sharp scrape of want shot through him but he ignored it for the show of flesh and bruises and the beauty laid out before him.

As he did almost every night, Dean's cock filled almost painfully quick, pressing against the seam of his jeans wantonly, begging for attention as his breathing picked up. It was too cold for much more, but he jerked himself roughly with presses against his dick, struggling for more, lungs screaming against the heavy, humid air.

  
Just as Dean thought he couldn't wait any longer, he heard his brother's moan, his own moan echoing it even as he registered Sam's word. And like a shock of iced water in his face, the hunter blinked, settling almost unnaturally still before contemplating what he'd just heard. His name. His brother had just called his name.

~ * ~ * ~

Dean wasn't sure how long he sat on the hood of the Impala, not heeding the cold or the fact that he could be hurting his car. At least it was his buttprint and not someone else's. When he finally got up the courage to go back to the room, he found it empty except for the smell of sex and the sound of running water from the bathroom. Shrugging out of his leather coat, feeling naked and exposed in the room he shared with his brother, Dean knew that he couldn't let this rest. That he wouldn't.

When his brother stepped out of the steamy bathroom, it almost looked like something absurd - a scene from a porno or something. Dean let out a choked sound at that thought, watching the water meander along the ridges of his brother's torso, mouth running dry.

" --Dean!"

Green eyes snapped up to meet brown and he was lost for a moment before blurting out, "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Sammy?"

His brother's eyes hardened at the question and he shook his head, striding across the room with long legs eating up the space quickly. "What business is it of yours?"

"You're fucking every guy within a twenty mile radius of where we stop, Sam. That's gonna come back to bite us on the ass." That might sound reasonable, but that argument had never worked with him and he sighed as his brother snorted in disbelief.

"Not likely seeing as your conquests haven't."

Dean's body vibrated with anger at that statement. Sam was always implying what a slut he was and Dean didn't mind, not really. What he did mind was Sam with those men, with any man except him. Taking a deep breath, he slid up behind his brother who was pulling on his worn in sweatpants and challenged, "It's my business when the name you scream is mine."

He watched the strong back muscles freeze before Sam pivoted, and Dean could almost see the apology on his lips. He didn't want it - didn't need it. An angry, guttural gust of air left his lungs and he shook his head, eyes dropping. How could he say this to Sam - to Sammy? How could he split himself open and not expect to be left to bleed?

Desperate and frustrated, green eyes slammed into brown which widened with surprise before darkening with some emotion Dean didn't dare name. "And what's it to you?" came the mocking question as that big body took a step forward, forcing him back.

On shaky ground, Dean did what he did best - belligerency. "It's my name!"

"Ummhmm," Sam hummed, taking another step. It didn't take long until Dean's back hit the wall, his breathing quickening with every inch lost. He didn't understand what Sammy thought he was doing. This wasn't good - wasn't anything close to it. They shouldn't -

All thoughts stopped with the biting kiss which bruised with pressure and need, tongue forced into Dean's mouth and a shocked moan escaping him as he fought to push his brother off, fought to get away even as his own tongue pushed back, thrusting and teasing roughly.

"Yeah, you know you want this," Sam muttered, almost slamming his body against his brother's, his body flattening it against the wall until there was no space left between them at all. Another bruising, possessive kiss and Dean couldn't even form words for protest, overwhelmed with his desire, with his brother's heat, with the harsh angles and unforgiving teeth and tongue and hands that were bruising over sensitive skin. He didn't know when he'd been stripped, he didn't remember with the teeth worry at his neck and the nails scraping against his nipples, but he did register the almost scratchy feel of worn cheap cotton sheets against his skin, sliding along his belly and teasing his cock even as his hips were lifted, preventing him from finding badly needed friction.

"Oh, God," he moaned softly, forehead resting against the mattress as he felt the sharp sting of a slap on his ass. Bites and hickeys were left in uneven patterns along his back and following his spin until Dean was shocked into awareness at the swipe of a tongue. "Sammy, I don't think -" And he gasped at the punishing grip of fingers pulling his thighs further apart, smacking his ass and pulling the globes apart until he was so exposed, so dirty that he felt like sinking through the mattress and hiding under the floor.

He was brutally entered, dry with one finger pushed past the comfort level even as a warm, wet tongue swiped and invaded as well. The burn of that finger stroking roughly inside, the heat of his cheeks as his body flushed in shame and need. "Knew you were a fucking slut for it," Sam told him, biting hard on one cheek, making Dean cry out and push his ass higher for more even as he squirmed against that hand, a second and third finger slid in only slightly lubricated by his brother's spit. Then those long, torturous, searing fingers found that nub inside him and pushed, stroked, scratched along it, shooting lightening through his body until he was gasping for breath, muscles trembling violently and mewling pained sounds clawed their way out his mouth.

"Yeah, just like that," came the husky voice, sweetened with lust and need. "Push back onto my hand, fuck yourself on my fingers, big brother. Wanna see you split open and wide before you even get my cock. But you won't come until I slide into you, so hard and fast, filling you up until you want nothing more to squirm away. But you can't. You'll stay there and take all I give. I know you will." After one more maddening tap against Dean's prostate, the younger man pulled his fingers free, a wolfish smile in place at the helpless noise of protest. Reaching over to grab the nearest lube, he liberally coated his cock, took a bruising grip on slender hips, and forced his way inside in one violent, terrifying thrust.

And Dean was lost to the rhythm and the violence and the overwhelming need for more. Whines and pleas dripped from his lips, driving them forward and on until he was at the brink, only to be cut off by a painful tug to his balls. Groaning in protest only brought forth a chuckle as the harsh pace was slowed tortuously. "Not quite yet. Don't think you've worked hard enough." And the thrusts stopped all together, but the hands were removed from his hips. His body's desperation took over and he moved, fucking himself back onto his brother's cock, fast and dirty, wet noises and the slap of flesh music to his ears as he heard breathing other than his own quicken.

Not long after Dean found himself pinned to the mattress spread-eagle, legs pulled apart by his brother's long ones as he fucked hard and relentlessly, until nothing but sound remained, cresting and falling and ending in a scream into darkness.

~ * ~ * ~

The blurry room blinked into focus and then went dark. It took him a moment to realize his eyes had shut. "Gnnh," he muttered, still feeling full and realizing that Sam had yet to pull out his softened cock. Sam. Sam's cock. Oh God.

Dean's body began to shake rapidly and he shook his head, eyes squeezing shut tight against the dampness as he realized that last line had been crossed. And he didn't truly care.

Taking a deep breath, he elbowed his brother who grunted and rolled off, pulling Dean with him and settling him against the longer form. "Okay?"

"Yeah."

There was moment filled with headlights from the parking lot and the faded whine of cars on the highway before Dean sighed and repeated, "Yeah." And it seemed that Sam understood as some tension he'd been carrying for a few months slowly unknotted.

"Good."

"Yeah. Okay, Sammy," Dean breathed into skin, finally admitting that his brother needed him as much as he needed Sam. He couldn't leave. They'd fix this.

"Jerk."

Dean sighed and his lips quirked up. Yeah, they'd definitely fix it.

Fin  



End file.
